








MY 



FRIEND ISAAC: 



AN ORIGINAL COMEDIETTA, 



In ©ne act 



BY 



DANIEL K. FORD. 



WITH THE 



STAGE-BUSINESS, COSTUMES, PROPERTIES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, 

&c, &c. 




BOSTON: 

PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 

22, School Street. 

1859. 



A 



MY 



FEIEND ISAAC: 



AN ORIGINAL COMEDIETTA, 



En ©ne act 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, 

BY DANIEL K. FORD, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



BOSTON: PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON- 



MY 



FRIEND ISAAC 



%n Original Comcbidia, in #ne %tt 



BY 



DANIEL K. FORD. 



\*\ 



STAGE-BUSINESS, COSTUMES, PROPERTIES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, 

&c, &c. 



J 



BOSTON: 



PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 

22, School Street. 

1859. 



V 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS AND COSTUMES. 

ISAAC H. PETTIGREW. — Rich dressing-gown, dark frock coat, 

buff waistcoat, gray trousers, and straw hat. 
JACOB L. STANFORD. — L ; ght frock coat, white waistcoat, and 

black trousers. 
JOHN. — A combination of cast-off garments. (Not ragged.} 
Mrs. PETTIGREW. — Morning walking-dress, fashionable bonnet, 

and crape shawl. 
Mrs. STANFORD. — Handsome silk dress, fashionable bonnet, 

shawl, &c. 

PROPERTIES. 

Scexe I. — Green cloth down. — Escritoire (l.), on which there 
are pens, ink, and unfinished manuscript. — Sofa (it.). — Table, with 
books and bell (a). — Four chairs. — Sewing for Mrs. Pettigrew. — 
Mrs. Pettigrew's bonnet and shawl, and Mr. Pettigrew's hat and frock 
coat, in closet left of an. — Bouquet. — Prodigious sweet potato. 

Scexe III. — Handsome table (r.), on which, backgammon board 
and fan. — Two high-backed chairs, one right, the other left, of this 
table. — Ea^y-chair (a). — Two more high-backed chairs. — Hand- 
some sofa (l.). — Two letters for John. — Red silk handkerchief for 
Mr. Stanford. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

Exits and Entrances. 

r. means right; l., left; r.d., right door; L.r>., left door; c.d., cen- 
tre door ; 2 e.r., second entrance, right ; 2 e.l., second entrance, left ; 
3 e.r., third entrance, right; 3 e.l., third entrance, left. 

Relative Positions. 

r. means right; l., left; c, centre; r.c, right of centre; l.c, left 
of centre; r cor., right corner ; l. cor., left corner. 



TMP92-009361 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 



SCENE I. 

A very neat, though not extravagantly furnished room, in tlie house 
of Mr. PETTIGREW. — Boor in flat (c). — Closet left of door. — 
Escritoire, with pens, ink, paper, and unfinished manuscript 
(l.). — Sofa (R.)- — Table, iciili a few books and a bell (a). — 
Chairs, &c, about stage. — Mr. Pettigrew discovered writing 
at the escritoire. — Mrs. Pettigrew seated on sofa, sewing. — 
Mr. P. has on dressing-gown. 

Mrs. P. I can't imagine what keeps Nellie. She pro- 
mised to be here at ten o'clock. (Looks at watch.) Why, it 
is now past eleven. Isaac, Isaac, my dear ! 

Mr. P. {Correcting manuscript.) Six mistakes in one 
sentence. (Furiously blots out a line.) 

Mrs. P. Ah me ! The poor fellow really doesn't hear 
me. Thank fortune, he has nearly completed his "Economi- 
cal Agriculturist ; " for he has neither allowed himself nor 
me to enjoy a good night's rest, since the moment that Quix- 
otic idea which inspired him to be an author entered his 
dear, devoted head. 

Mr. P. (Angrily.) Cabbage begun with a K. The idea 
of a (Furiously blots out a ivord.) 

Mrs. P. During the day, he does nothing but scratch, 
scratch, scratch ; and, when night comes on and we should 
be quietly asleep, lie torments me almost to death by descant- 
ing upon the merits of the few additional pages which have 
recently augmented his large compilation of receipts. 

Mr. P. (Li better humor.) This page looks better. 

Mrs. P. If, finally, he falls asleep, and I have made up 
my mind that I shall be able to enjoy a few hours' repose, I 
hardly fall into a comfortable snooze when I am awakened 



4 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 

by his voice, crying, " Get off that bed of turnips," or a 
vociferous recital of one of the receipts which he has lately 
transcribed. O dear! O dear! If this book was not almost 
completed, I believe I should tolerate such proceedings no 
longer. Isaac ! 

Mr. P. ( Writing at the same time.) Did — you — speak, 
— Carrie ? 

Mrs. P. Did I speak ? I spoke twice. 

Mr. P. What — say, — Carrie ? {Aside.) If I can but 
surmount this last of all my difficulties, this last great task, 
I shall immortalize my name ; yes, immortalize it. The 
name of Pettigrew shall, through the pen of the biographer, 
be placed beside those of Plato, Plutarch, Pericles, Pompey, 
Pitt; in short, Pettigrew will be another P. added to this 
illustrious pod. (Resumes writing.) 

Mrs. P. Husband ! 

Mr. P. O Carrie ! I think you spoke to me. You must 
excuse me, my dear. I was endeavoring to think of some 
elixir, balm, or lotion, which, on experiment, might possibly 
prove to be a new and economical cure for the potato rot. 
It is high time that this unfortunate esculent plant received 
my attention. Can't you make some suggestions, my love? 
for, you know, you are my love, my sweet. (Crosses c.) 
Apropos, speaking of sweets, I am confident that I shall 
receive the first premium for long sweets at the coming hor- 
ticultural fair. 

Mrs. P. Indeed ! I am delighted to hear this joyful 
news. 

Mr. P. Thank you, my dear. I should now be the hap- 
piest of mortals if I could but discover a practical receipt 
for 

Mrs. Stanford. (Back of flat.) Oh! I can find the room. 

Mrs. P. Tis Mrs. Stanford. 

Enter Mrs. Stanford (c.d.). Mr. P. retires to table, and 
arranges papers. 

3frs. P. (Rising from sofa.) Good morning, Nellie. 

Mrs. S. (Coming down c.) Good morning, Carrie. As 
I came on urgent business, you must excuse me for entering 
so abruptly. I 

Mrs. P. Hush ! (Points to Mr. Pettigrew.) 

Mrs. S. Ah! Mr. Pettigrew, I did not observe you when 
I entered. Lovely morning. 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 5 

Mr. P. Yes, charming, madam, charming. {Aside.) 
Probably she did not observe me. She said she came on 
urgent business. Urgent business, a lawyer's wife, and ur- 
gent business. (Ponders.) 

Mrs. P. (Aside.) Now to get rid of Isaac : let me see. 
(Aloud.) Isaac, Isaac, my dear, please go into the garden, 
and cut Nellie a bouquet? and go immediately, too, if you 
please, for she can only stay a short time ; and be sure, Isaac, 
to place some of the Pettigrew roses in it. 

Mr. P. (Aside, suspiciously.) Oho ! I think there's 
some conspiracy on foot. (Takes bell from table, c.) I'll 
ring for John. 

3frs. P. ( Very lovingly.) No, no : please bring it your- 
self; it will be arranged so much better. 

Mr. P. (Aside.) How can I refuse such a lovely crea- 
ture ! (Aloud, going to c.d.) Very well, Carrie, as you 
like. (Aside, at c.d.) Urgent business. (Takes hat and 
coat from closet; hangs up dressing-gown.) To be sure, my 
premium from Norton comes to me, probably, through the 
kindness of Mrs. Stanford. She is a very agreeable woman ; 
but she — I — I — if — is it proper or right, Isaac Petti- 
grew, that you should leave these two women by themselves, 
during the time which it requires, on ordinary occasions, to 
cut and arrange a bouquet ? No, never ! I am resolved. 
The bouquet in the hall, with a few fresh roses, will answer 
every purpose. Carrie ! beware ! 'Tis dangerous to have 
urgent business with lawyers' wives. (Exit, c.d.) 

Mrs. S. (r.c.) Well, Carrie, here we are, all alone. 

Mrs. P. (Placing chairs.) Yes, Nellie : be seated. We 
will immediately see what can be done. (Mrs. S. sits, r.c. 
Mrs. P. sits, c.) It is necessary that we should be as expe- 
ditious as possible. 

Mrs. S. Ah, me ! 

Mrs. P. Why that sigh ? Has any thing new occurred ? 
Why didn't you come at the time agreed upon ? But never 
mind : you are here, and I propose to use Isaac to accomplish 
our design. 

Mrs. S. (Alarmed.) What, Mr. Pettigrew ! Why, you 
have not informed Mr. ? Fie, Carrie, lie ! 

Mrs. P. Do not be alarmed, my dear. I have not in- 
formed my husband ; but, as I said before, I propose using 
him to accomplish our purpose. 

Mr. S. But how ? You 

1* 



6 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 

Mrs. P. (Interrupting.) Patience, Nellie, and you will 
understand. Do you remember a certain interview which 
you had not long ago with Mr. Squashby, President of the 
Horticultural Association at Norton ? 

Mrs. S. Yes, indeed, I do ; and a good word for Mr. Pet- 
tigrew I did not forget during our conversation. 

Mrs. P. Well, Isaac has heard of your kindness to him ; 
and he feels confident, that, through that good word, as you 

say, (Of course I would not disparage the merits of 

his productions.) 

Mrs. S. Oh, no ! 

Mrs. P. Certainly not ; but he feels confident that through 
your kindness those merits were more thoroughly appre- 
ciated. 

Mrs. S. Yes, and is he to receive a premium ? 

Mrs. P. He informed me, a few minutes before you en- 
tered the room, that there was no doubt of it. 

Mrs. S. That is capital. Then his monomania will be 
turned to some account. Go on, Carrie. But what has all 
this to do with his aiding us in our plans? 

Mrs. P. You shall see, you shall see. 'Twas only yester- 
day that he spoke of his gratitude to you ; and he added, he 
would do any thing in the world to repay you for your kind- 
ness. 

Mrs. S. Yes, well ! 

Mrs. P. I intend to remind him of the remark he made 
yesterday, and to inform him that there is now an opportu- 
nity for him to verify it. 

Mrs. S. Exactly ; but how ? 

Mrs. P. By becoming enamoured — seemingly, of course, 
not really — with Mrs. Stanford. 

Mrs. S. (Laughing.) What ! with me, Carrie ? 

Mrs. P. Yes, with you ; and, by so doing, excite the 
jealousy of your husband, open his eyes, and cause him to 
realize the enormity of his conduct. 

Mrs. S. Excellent! But will Mr. Pettigrew consent? 

Mrs. P. I feel assured he will ; and my assurance is 
enhanced by a proposition which I have got to make him. 

Mrs. S. (Laughing.) Carrie ! 

Mrs. P. You have heard him speak of his forthcoming 
work, entitled (loftily) "The Economical Agriculturist"? 

Mrs. S. I have. 

Mrs. P. Well, it was almost completed three weeks ago ; 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 7 

and, since that time, it has remained in a state of statu quo, 
requiring but one more article before it should go into the 
hands of the publishers. This morning, our neighbor, farmer 
Norcross, informed me that he had discovered the very tiling 
Mr. Pettigrew has been pining for during three long weeks. 
He wrote it off for me, and I now have it here in my pocket. 
Now, my dear, I intend to offer Isaac this receipt as a re- 
ward, if he will consent, for a few hours only, to do as we 
may direct him. 

Mrs. S. Capital ! He will consent. I am sure he will. 

Mrs. P. Now, as soon as he returns, take the bouquet, 
and go directly home. I will be there in a short time, and 

{noise back of flat) ; but here he comes. It can't be 

possible that he has already picked the bouquet. {They 
place back the chairs.) 

Enter Mr. Pettigreav (c.d.), apparently unobserved. 

Mr. P. {Standing in c.d.) There, I guess they have 
not had time to concoct much mischief. This bouquet has 
been picked at least twenty-four hours ; but, by the addition 
of a few Pettigrew roses, and the application of a few drops 
of Lubin's extract, its appearance is so integrally changed, 
both in an olfactory and ocular sense, that I think I may 
safely venture to pass it off for a fresh one. ( Goes down left 
of Mrs. S.) There, Mrs. Stanford, behold the bouquet, all 
plucked, arranged, and presented, in {presents it with right 
hand, and takes out watch with left) just ten minutes. {Feels 
in back pocket to coat, and partially turns his back on Mrs. S. 

Mrs. S. Thank you, Mr. Pettigrew. ( Glances roguishly 
at Mrs. P.) {Exit, r.) 

Mr. P. {Still feeling in pocket.) But that is not all I 
have brought you. {Tags at pocket.) In one minute, — 
there {produces large sweet potato), there is one of my long 
sweets, which, if you have no objections, I would like to have 
you try to-day at dinner. {Turns full round, and is aston- 
ished not to find Mrs. Stanford.) Well ! This is refresh- 
ing, I must say. Where is Mrs. Stanford? 

Mrs. P. (l.c.) Gone home, my dear. 

Mr. P. {Indignantly.) What, without even saying good 
morning? I must say Mrs. Stanford does not know what 
good manners are, if she did confer a favor on me. Why, 
she is a perfect pig. She, — pig ? — pig ? — speaking of pigs 



8 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 

reminds me that I have forgotten to tell John to crop old 
Suffolk's ears. {Places potato back into pocket.) I will call 
him immediately. {Takes bell from table.) 

Mrs. P. Don't ring. John has gone to town on an errand 
for me. 

Mr. P. {Petulantly.) Just the way, just the w r ay. 
{Pleasantly.) No matter, no matter. I can never blame 
you, Carrie, for any thing. I am sorry, but I will go and 
cut them myself. {Advances towards CD.) 

Mrs. P. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! Isaac Pettigrew cut a pig's 
ears? Why, you would be on your back in less than a 
minute ; and I am much afraid, that, instead of piggy Suffolk, 
it would be piggy Pettigrew whose ears would be cropped. 

Mr. P. { Very much excited.) Mrs. Pettigrew ! Mrs. 
Pettigrew! Call your husband a pig! O Carrie, Carrie! 
has it come to this? {Buries face in hands, and walks down 
to k. COR. Turns abruptly.) But who will cut his ears? 
You can't do it, — that — is — I can't, — you are not willing 
I should do it. The pig's ears must be cut. Yes, Mrs. P., 
the pig's ears must and shall be cut. Who? yes, who in the 
d is going to do it, Mrs. P. ? 

Mrs. P. {Lovingly.) Now, Isaac. 

Mr. P. {Peevishly.) What? 

Mrs. P. I have got some good news to tell you. 

Mr. P. Good news ! hang the good news. 

Mrs. P. You will not say so when you hear me through. 
If you will only follow my advice, you will be able to finish 
your "Agriculturist" this very day. 

Mr. P. What ? No ! You don't say so ? Can it be 
possible? What do you mean? 

Mrs. P. What do I mean ? 

Mr. P. Yes, you — you haven't discovered a cure for the 
potato-rot, have you ? 

Mrs. P. I have. 

Mr. P. Is it possible? {In ecstasies.) Oh, cucumbers! 
Embrace me, wife, embrace me. {They embrace, c.) 

Mrs. P. Oh ! 

Mr. P. { With arm around wife's neck.) " Excellent 
creature, but I do love thee. And when I love thee not, 
chaos is come again." 

Mrs. P. { With simplicity.) That's Shakspeare, isn't it ? 

Mr. P. Oh, no, my dear ! That is from Longfellow's 
Paradise Lost. But is your receipt an economical one? 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 9 

Mrs. P. It is. But you must render me a certain favor 
before you can receive it. 

Mr. P. (Earnestly.) Yes! 

Mrs. P. If you consent, as true as I am your lawful wife, 
your book shall be ready for press before sunset. 

Mr. P. (Rubbing hands joyfully.) I am a made man. 
I am ready for any thing, — any thing you may demand. 
What do you wish ? I will turn the cows, pigs, and sheep 
into the garden, pull up all my cabbages, take off my favorite 
game-cock's tail, and even annihilate my long-sweets, if you 
desire it. 

3Irs. P. I shall want you to do none of these things. 

3Ir. P. What then ? (Aside.) Oh ! I am a new being. 

Mrs. P. Do you remember your remarks of yesterday 
regarding Mrs. Stanford? 

Mr. P. (Joyfully.) Perfectly, perfectly, my dear. I 
said I would do any thing in the world to repay her for the 
good turn she did me when last at Norton. 

Mrs. P. And did you mean it? 

Mr. P. To be sure, I did. And is this what you wish 
me to do? 

Mrs. P. Yes. 

Mr. P. But how ? 

Mrs. P. By immediately putting on your hat, and follow- 
ing me. (Goes to closet, and takes from it bonnet and 
shawl.) 

Mr. P. But where are we going, Carrie? 

Mrs. P. Why, to Mrs. Stanford's. Where did you 
think ? 

Mr. P. And, when we get there, I am to do what? 

Mrs. P. (Putting on bonnet.) You are to ask no ques- 
tions, but to follow my directions. (Puts on shaivl.) 

Mr. P. Allow me, clearest. (Arranges her shawl.) 

Mrs. P. There, remember what I have said, and also 
that it is absolutely necessary that you perform every thing I 
may require of you, if you wish to obtain the receipt. 

(Exit, c.d.) 

Mr. P. (Rapturously.) Oh, it is a settled thing! I am a 
made man! A perfect elysium opens before me! Yes, un- 
thought-of happiness awaits me ! (Dances down to R. COR.) 
Ri-fol-de-rol-dol-diddle-dol-de-dol. (Stops very gravely.) But 
if I should happen to be disappointed, — but no, Carrie 



10 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 

would not deceive me. She is a most remarkable woman ; 
so wise, so loving, so gentle, 

Mrs. P. {Screaming bach of flat .) Isaac ! 

Mr. P. Coming, coming. This very day, before to-night, 
I'm either made or undone quite ! (Exit, CD.) 

SCENE II. — A road. 
Enter Mr. Pettigrew (l.). 

Mr. P. What a wonderful woman my wife is. It will be 
utterly impossible for me to overtake her before she reaches 
Stanford's. (Looks off r.) There she goes, up the hill. 
She beckons for me to make haste. Ah, here comes John ! 

Enter John (r.). 

John. ( With Irish brogue.) Good morning, sir. 

Mr. P. Well, John, what is the news from town ? But 
never mind, I cannot stop to hear. (Crosses r. John 
crosses l.) O John ! I want you to weed the onions to-day. 

John. Which, sir? 

Mr. P. The silver skins, or Jones's favorite. And let me 
see, — there is something else 

John. Yees, sir. 

Mr. P. Oh ! crop old Suffolk's ears the very first thing 
you do ; and be careful not to get them too short. And — 
John, you might take a small piece from his tail, if you think 
it will improve his looks. 

John. I will, sir. It will improve his personal appear- 
ance very much entirely, sir. 

(Exit Mr. Pettigrew (r.). John (l.). 

SCENE III. 

A draiving-room in the house of Mr. Stanford, until (c.) doors open- 
ing into garden. — Set door (2 E.R.). — Set door (2 e.l.). — 
Handsome table (R.), on which a backgammon board and fan. 
— Easy-chair (c). — Handsome sofa (L.). — Chairs, &c, about 
stage. — A chair each side of table (R.). 

Enter Mrs. Pettigrew (c.d.). 

Mrs. P. ( Coming down stage.) At last, here I am ; and 
now to find Nellie. But where is Isaac? (Returns to CD.) 
He is so slow! The fellow isn't even in sight. 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 11 



Enter Mrs. Stanford (r.d.). 

Mrs. S. (Soberly.) Carrie. 

Mrs. P. (Comes dozen r.) Nellie, }'ou see I have kept 
my word. 

Mrs. S. Lay off your bonnet and shawl, my dear. (Mrs. 
P. removes bonnet and shawl, and Mrs. S. carries them off, 

R.D.) 

Mrs. P. I wonder where Mr. Stanford is. (Re-enter 
Mrs. S.) Where is your husband, Nellie ? 

Mrs. S. He is up stairs; and he seems to be in great 
tribulation on account of his inability to find something. I 
know not what it is; but I suspect it is the gammon-board: 
for he has several times lately left the house at about this 
hour with that article under his arm. You can probably 
imagine where he carries it. 

Mrs. P. What ! to the hotel opposite ? 

Mrs. S. Yes. And, by the aid of an opera-glass, I have, 
on three occasions, distinctly seen him seated at a window in 
the second story, playing backgammon and draughts with the 
person of whom I have spoken to you. 

Mrs. P. And does he mistrust that you are aware of 
this ? 

Mrs. S. Not for one moment. His story, which he ima- 
gines I am stupid enough to believe, is, that he takes the 
board to his friend Green's apothecary store, where he and 
the worthy proprietor of that medicinal establishment con- 
jointly worry away the few hours before dinner. 

Mrs. P. What is the name of this new boarder at the 
hotel? 

Mrs. S. Her name is Mrs. Newcomb. I have been in- 
formed that she is a widow from Oxford, and that she is 
quite wealthy. (She sees gammon-board on table, r.) Why, 
here is the board now ! 

Mrs. P. Capital, Nellie. The exercise will do your hus- 
band good. He shall not have his game this morning. I 
have an excellent idea. (They confer together, r.) 

Enter Mr. Pettigrew, unobserved (c.D.). 

Mr. P. I wonder what the first demand upon this self- 
sacrificing institution will be. I am really almost afraid that 



12 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 

Carrie will get me into difficulty. My courage is beginning 
to leave me. She knows, however, what is right and what 
is wrong. In fact, she is, as I often have occasion to remark, 
a most extraordinary woman. {Thoughtfully.) The end 
and purpose of whatever I may do is to please Mrs. Stan- 
ford ; and the reward, oh ! but what can Mrs. Stanford 

possibly desire of me ? Oh ! beware, Isaac, beware, 'tis 

Mrs. P. (Discovering Mr. P.) Ah, you are here at 
last! 

Mr. P. (Aside, to wife, c.) What must I do first, my 
love? 

3frs. P. (Pointing to chair left of tahle.) Sit right down 
here. And, Nellie, you sit opposite. ( They obey her.) Now 
arrange the men, and commence to play. 

Mr. P. (Alarmed.) Oh, no ! not this, Carrie ! Why, 
what will Jacob think? 

Mrs. P. Never mind what he will think, but arrange the 
men. 

Mrs. S. (Smiling.) An excellent commencement. 

Mr. P. ( Greatly alarmed.) But, Carrie — now — this is 
going a leetle too far. It will create a disturbance. I know 
it will. 

Mrs. P. Sir, as you hope to receive 

Mr. P. (Anxiously.) Yes ! — but ! — I know ! 

Mrs. S. There is one man wanting. Mr. Pettigrew, 
have you a penny in your pocket to take its place ? 

Mr. P. ( Confused.) Yes, yes, oh yes ! ( With trembling 
voice, at same time feeling in pockets.) What does this all 
mean ? Can it be possible that these ladies wish to injure 
me, to — to ruin all my future hopes, — to ( Very ner- 
vously drawing potato from coat pocket.) There was the 
man, black or white. (Mrs. S. laughs. Mr. P. discovers his 
■mistake, produces coin, lays potato on table.) Oh ! a penny ! 
(Aside.) I am perfectly bewildered ; the — the cold sweat 

runs off of me in — in What will this lead to ? Jacob 

is my trusty friend. 

Mrs. P. Ah, here comes Mr. Stanford ! (Resolutely.) 
Husband, commence the game ; and, remember, don't leave 
the room till I return. (Exit, 3 e.r.) 

(Mrs. S. and Mr. P. hurriedly arrange the board, and begin 
to play.) 

Mr. P. (Aside, looking distrustfidly at Mrs. S.) Uncon- 
scionable woman ! 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 13 



Enter Mr. Stanford (l.). 

Mr. S. (Aside.) Where in the world can that board be ? 
(Observes his wife and Mr. P.) Double sixes! As I live, 
there's my friend Isaac ; and playing gammon, too, with my 
wife. Well, I must say, I admire this arrangement. (An- 
grily.) She must have known what I was looking for. So, 
so, this is another piece of your cunning, is it? But you 

shall answer for it; and as for Mr. Pettigrew ■ 

Mr. P. (Turns, observes Mr. S., crosses over to l., and 
shakes hands with him.) Good-morning, Jacob. Beautiful 
weather. Don't go to town to-day, I suppose ? Looking 
quite melancholy. What's turned up? Eh? Sick? No. 
Wife's a beautiful player. (Resumes seat.) Shall be through 
in a few minutes. 

Mr. S. (Extremely agreeable.) Lovely day, Isaac. Ex- 
cellent weather for farming and 

Mr. P. (Interrupting.) Very, very. I shall be through 
presently, Jacob. (Aside.) Good. He's not angry. 

Mr. S. Egad ! I like this fellow's impudence. What 
combination of circumstances could have taken him from his 
farm at such an hour? (Angrily.) The idea of a married 
man playing backgammon with another man's wife ; and be- 
fore dinner, too, — yes, before dinner. The thing is prepos- 
terous. It is abominable. And what will Mrs. Newcomb 
think? I promised to see her over an hour ago. Can my 
wife have discovered any thing ? Oh, no, no ! ( Goes up the 
stage, and looks out of window in flat.) 

Mr. P. (Rising.) You are a remarkable player, Mrs. 
Stanford. I hope I shall have another hand at this before 
long ; for, notwithstanding I must confess myself most egre- 
giously vanquished, it is the most interesting game I have 
enjoyed for a great while. 

Mrs. S. Thank you, sir. (Anxiously, aside.) I wish 
Carrie was here. I do not dare to remain without her. 
Perhaps she is in my room. I'll see. (Exit, r.d.) 

Mr. P. (Aside.) I think a modicum of flattery is very 
appropriate on some occasions ; besides, I have every reason 
to believe that Mrs. Stanford has the receipt of which ray 
wife has informed me. (Ecstatic.) Perhaps it has been 
thoroughly tested, and found to be an infallible cure. I feel 
assured it has. If so, how unlike it will be to many of my 

2 



14 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 

receipts! Well, Jacob, what is the news? {Mr. S. comes 
doivn, l.) Do the hard times affect your business? 

Mr. S. {Hesitatingly.) No — no. 

Mr. P. I'm glad to hear it. 

Mr. S. Thank you. But haven't you been informed ? 

Mr. P. No ! 

Mr. S. {Cheerfully.) Why, all our mills have stopped. 
In short, to use a common expression, we have failed ; and 
here I am, away from business, care, trouble, etc., etc., while 
my junior partners are making the preliminary arrangements 
to present our infuriated creditors with, — well, the amount 
is hardly worth mentioning. {Laughs.) 

Mr. P. ( Greatly interested.) Indeed ! Believe me, 
Jacob, this is the first intimation I have had of it. I am 
very sorry for you. 

Mr. S. {Laughing.) Sorry, Isaac. Why ? ( With as- 
sumed gravity.) Yes, it is rather unfortunate. Ha ! ha ! 
ha! ha! 

Mr. P. {Greatly astonished at his friend's coolness.) 
11 Unfortunate ! " {Aside.) He seems to take delight in his 
misfortunes. He actually revels in them. Singular being. 
{To Mr. S.) I suppose it is merely a temporary suspen- 
sion? 

Mr. S. Bless you, no. We have stopped for good. I 
have left the business for ever. 

Mr. P. {Sympathetically.) I am very sorry. 

Mr. S. {Petulantly.) For what, sir? 

Mr. P. {Startled.) Oh ! — I — {Aside.) « For what." 
The man must be unwell. 

Mr. S. For what are you sorry ? 

Mr. P. { Confused.) Ahem ! — I — any prospect of an- 
other business? Going back into the law? 

Mr. S. Law? Bah! 

Mr. P. {Smiling.) Well, yes, yes, I see, I see, xery 
good. Law, bar. I believe the members of that profession 
are in the habit of visiting such places. Then you don't 
intend to go back into the law ? 

Mr. S. {Emphatically.) No, sir ! 

Mr. P. { Very mildly.) Oh ! — you — don't ! 

Mr. S. I do not. I have once very nearly starved in 
that profession, and I am not ambitious to make a second 
attempt. Since we moved from the smoke and confusion of 
the metropolis, I have become so attached to my new home 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 15 

that I have at last resolved to give up city life and city busi- 
ness, and, in future, to follow the same praiseworthy vocation 
already adopted by yourself. 

Mr. P. {Agreeably surprised.) What ! turn farmer ? 

Mr. S. The same. 

Mr. P. Is it possible? Can I believe my ears? Give 
me your hand, Jacob. {They shake hands, c.) This is the 
best news I have heard for you are not deceiving me? 

Mr. S. No, Isaac. 

Mr. P. {Rapturously.) No! Then you shall possess 
the first copy of my "Economical Agriculturist" which falls 
from the press ; and, to prove to you the infinite joy I expe- 
rience from the sudden change which has come over you, the 
work shall be dedicated to you. Yes, your name shall ap- 
pear in large letters on the first page, immediately under the 
frontispiece, which, by the by, is to be a beautifully got-up 
thing : one will hardly be able to distinguish it from a steel 
engraving. In the foreground, you see a fine representation 
of the Suffolk hog. This is to be colored, and, of course, 
will attract the reader's attention, whose eye, naturally 
enough, having feasted upon this work of art, will wander to 
the reading matter below, viz. : " To Jacob Stanford, 
Esq." (Jacob Stanford, Esq., in pre-eminent pica), " as a 
memorial of private esteem and friendship, this volume is 
respectfully dedicated by The Author." But where is 
Carrie ? She must hear of your intentions immediately. 
{Goes to CD.) She will be delighted. I will return pre- 
sently, Jacob. {Exit, c.d.) 

Mr. S. {Laughing.) Poor fellow ! {Sternly.) But where's 
my wife ? {Enter 3frs. Stanford, r.d.) So, so, Mrs. 
Stanford, this is the way for a dutiful wife to behave, is it ? 
{Points to gammon-board.) Aren't you ashamed of your- 
self? 

Mrs. S. Ashamed of myself — for what, dear? 

Mr. S. Bah! Don't dear me. A pretty piece of busi- 
ness. Don't you know that it is not only indiscreet, but very 
wrong, to behave in such a manner? If — if — I wasn't a 
man possessed of complete control over my temper {walks 
angrily to and fro), there is no knowing what might trans- 
pire ! No, Mrs. Stanford, there is no knowing what might 
transpire ! Many a wife has, by such a course, rendered a 
home, which might otherwise have been a paradise, a — a — 
a perfect {buttons up coat) — I will not say what, madam ! 



16 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 

Mrs. S. (Imploringly.) But husband ! 

Mr. S. Not a word. A wife who would play a game of 
backgammon with another woman's husband without her 
own husband's consent, and at such an hour 

Mrs. S. Hour? 

Mr. S. (Furiously.) Yes, hour ! hour ! — isn't worthy 
the name of wife ! 

Mrs. S. But you could not object to my playing with 
your friend Isaac? There can be no harm, dearest. 

Mr. S. It makes no difference, no, not an iota, madam ; 
and, what is more, Mrs. Pettigrew shall hear of it too. 

Mrs. S. (Alarmed.) You will not 

Mr. S. (Interrupting?) Yes, wife, I will. When a man, 
having so faithful a wife as Mrs. Pettigrew, acts in so unpar- 
donable a manner, he is a contemptible fellow. But, in this 
case, you are the most to be blamed. Yes — you. (Greatly 
excited, throws himself on to sofa, l.) 

Mrs. S. (Aside.) Can it be possible that this is real 
jealousy? 

Mr. S. (Springing from sofa.) There ! I cannot re- 
main quiet : you have riled me for the day. I will go to my 
room, and, if Mr. Pettigrew returns, tell him I am out. 
Remember, Mrs. Stanford, remember what I have said to 
you. (Aside.) There, I guess that will do very well. 
(Smiling.) What would the widow say if she had heard 
me? (Exit, l.) 

Mrs. S. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! (Enter Mrs. Pettigrew, 

3 E.R.) 

Mrs. P. What is the matter, Nellie ? 

Mrs. S. (Still laughing.) J — J — Jacob has this mo- 
ment gone to his room in a tremendous rage. (Soberly.) 
But it is all your fault, Carrie. Ha! ha! ha! ha! 

Enter Mr. Pettigrew, out of breath (c.d.). 

Mr. P. Carrie, why, where — have — you — been ? I 
thought I should never find you. Only — think of it. Stan- 
ford is about to turn farmer. (Exhausted, sits down on sofa, 

L.) 

Mrs. P. That is nothing new, my dear. But, Isaac (goes 
to sofa), I am afraid you forgot your promise, didn't you ? I 
think I desired you to remain here till I returned. 

Mr. P. (Anxiously.) Yes, but 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 17 

Mrs. P. (Interrupting.) Not a word. 

Mr. P. Now, Carrie ! 

Mrs. P. Be silent. Remember your promise. It is not 
too late now. 

Mr. P. (Satisfied.) Oil ! 'tis not ! 

Mrs. P. (c.) Nellie, I believe you said that your hus- 
band does not know that you are aware of his intended game 
with Mrs. Newcomb ? 

Mrs. S. (r.c.) No, Carrie. And, as much as he 
aggravated me, I retained that knowledge for another occa- 
sion. 

Mr. P. (Aside.) Game with Mrs. Newcomb ! New- 
comb, Newcomb : who is Mrs. Newcomb ? It can't be possi- 
ble that Jacob, — pshaw ! no, no. 

Mr. S. ( Without, l., angrily.) 3Irs. Stanford I Mrs. 
Stanford ! 

Mrs. P. Don't answer him, Nellie. 

Mr. P. (Rising.) Why, what's the matter with Jacob ? 

Mrs. P. Remain quiet, and you will see. 

Mr. S. Mrs. Stanford! Mrs. Stanford! 

Mr. P. (Alarmed.) But, wife, he may be in difficulty. 
I once knew a man 

Mrs. P. (Interrupting.) Husband, the receipt. 

Mr. S. (Louder.) Mrs. Stanford ! Mrs. Stanford ! 
(Enters, L., is greatly abashed, pauses a few moments, coughs 
and hesitates.) Ah, good-morning, Mrs. Pettigrew ! (Pas- 
ses Mr. P., and goes l.c) 

Mrs. S. (r.). Mrs. P. (r.c). Mr. P. front of sofa (l.). 

Mrs. P. Good-morning, sir. You seem excited. 

Mr. S. (Assuming hoarse voice.) I — I have a very 
severe cold. (Coughs.) 

Mr. P. I thought your voice sounded rather hoarse. It 
beats all how suddenly these colds come on. A most miser- 
able climate this. I have given up all hopes for my corn 
this year. But, Jacob, you look very much excited. Is any 
thing the matter? 

Mr. S. ( Confused, with natural voice.) Oh ! — no — no 
— I might possibly have strained my voice (lovingly) calling 
for Nellie. 

Mr. P. But your voice sounds better now. Have you 
taken any thing ? 

2* 



18 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 

Mr. S. {Hoarse.) I thought she was in the garden, and 
the servants are all — {confused) — it is a great way to the 
garden — that is, the garden is a great distance, and — that 
is — if — but 

Mr. P. Very likely. But, Jacob, you look very pale ; 
and now, while I speak — why, you are flushed. There must 
be something else? 

Mr. S. (Hoarse.) Oh, no, no ! 

Mr. P. Oh ! you do, you surely look very strange ! I'll 
leave it to the ladies. 

Mr. S. {Aside.) Curse the fellow's impudence ! 

Mrs. S. I should think you might look strange, Mr. Stan- 
ford. A cold ! I am astonished at this duplicity. Why not 
act like a man, sir? Why not acknowledge that you was 
angry when you called for me ? Your voice then bespoke 
anger, if your conduct does not now. He was angry with 
me, Mr. Pettigrew, because of that game of ours at back- 
gammon. 

Mr. S. But, Nellie, my dear. 

Mrs. S. Don't dear me, sir, after chiding me as you did. 
You are a cruel husband. ( Cries.) You do not love me — 
you — you will break my heart — you will. ( Goes up stage, 
crying.) 

Mr. S. Now, Nellie. {Follows her np stage, and appears 
to he endeavoring to effect a reconciliation. Mrs. P. crosses 
to L.) 

Mr. P. Come, come, Jacob. 

Mrs. P. {Checking him.) Will you be quiet? 

Mr. P. {Aside, to Mrs. P.) O Carrie, Carrie ! I fear 
that we are the cause of all this trouble. It must go no 
further. I feel duty bound to stop it. 

Mrs. P. {Aside, to Mr. P.) Very well, sir, do as you 
wish; but, if you interfere, the "Agriculturist," I am afraid, 
will not be completed to-day. {Aside.) Eureka ! ( Whis- 
pers to Mr. P.) 

Mr. P. {Astonished.) No ! 

Mrs. P. Yes. 

Mr. P. Oho ! I see it all ; I see it all. Mrs. S. doubts 
the constancy of Mr. S. Her desire is to reclaim him. You 
say she wishes to excite his jealousy? So, so! so, so! I, 
your husband, am the worthy instrument selected to effect a 
proper settlement ? 

Mrs. P. The same. 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 19 

Mr. P. I see it all. Ha, ha, ha ! Poor Jacob ! I pity 
him: but he deserves to suffer; yes, indeed he does. You 
say there is no doubt in regard to that receipt? 

Mrs. P. Not the least. 

Mr. P. Then here goes. {Checks himself.) But what 
shall I do, Carrie? 

Mrs. S. What will our friends think of us, sir? ( Walls 
up and down stage, crying bitterly ; finally settles into chair 
left of table k. Mr. S., discouraged, throws himself into 
easy -chair.) 

Mrs. P. Appear to be in love with his wife. 

Mr. P. Good! I will. (Crosses to Mrs. S.) There, 
there, Mrs. Stanford, don't take it so hard. If he is ugly, 
don't notice it. Trust in me, Mrs. Stanford. Give me your 
confidence. I will be your friend to the last. (Glances side- 
ways at wife, who looks at him encouragingly.) 

Mr. S. (Springing from chair.) Sir ! 

Mr. P. (Shouting.) Sir to you, sir ! 

Mrs. P. Excellent ! 

Mr. S. (Astonished.) Mrs. Pettigrew! 

Mr. P. You have been a much-abused woman, madam ; 
but, henceforth, things shall be different. 

Mrs. S. (Sobbing.) Thank — thank you, sir. 

Mr. S. Isaac Pettigrew ! Wife ! 

Mr. P. (Greatly excited.) Silence, you hedge-hog, you 
reptile ! See what you have done ! (Mrs. S. sobs.) You 
monster ! See, sir, see ! or can't you see, you cabbage-head, 
you potato without an eye ? Your conduct has been barba- 
rous, sir ! There, Nellie, there ; dry up your tears : he is not 
worth minding. 

Mr. S. (Aside.) He calls her Nellie ! Well, this is most 
extraordinary treatment for a man to receive in his own 
house. Mr. Pettigrew, I command you to leave my house 
immediately ! 

Mr. P. (Furiously seizing potato from table.) I shall do 
no such thing, sir ! If you can't attend to your wife's wants 
and necessities, I will. (Shakes potato menacingly at J\Ir. S.) 
Yes, sir, / will ! (Mrs. P. screams, and appears to faint. 
Mr. P., alarmed, crosses quickly to her, places left arm 
around her waist, and she seizes his right hand.) Carrie, 
my dear ! 

Mrs. P. (Aside to him.) Only imitation, my love. Of 
course, I must be jealous. 



20 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 



Mr. P. Oh, yes, of course ! (Returns to 3frs. S. Mrs. 
P. staggers back, with potato in her hand.) Jacob, pass a 
chair to my wife. Do you hear, sir? 

Mr. S. (Passes arm-chair, into which Mrs. P. falls.) 
What have we here ? (Inquisitively takes potato from Mrs. 
P.'s hands, and goes forward to examine it. Mr. P. indig- 
nantly follows him, seizes potato, places it carefully into his 
pocket, glances tragiccdly at Mr. S., and returns to Mrs. S.) 

Mrs. P. ( Crying.) Oh, dear ! 

Mr. S. Poor woman ! poor woman ! And my wife, too ! 
Oh ! this will never do, I 

Mrs. P. (Piteously.) O Mr. Stanford ! 

Mr. S. (Same tone.) O Mrs. Pettigrew ! 

Mr. P. "Well, sir, well : pay her, sir, if you owe her any 
thing ! We can dispense with these guttural sounds. 

Mr. S. (Enraged.) You young dog ! 

Mr. P. ( Coolly.) Puppy, sir, puppy, if you wish. The 
two expressions are synonymous, and the latter avoids cir- 
cumlocution. (Takes fan from table, and calmly fans Mrs. 
S.) 

Mr. S. (Exasperated.) Once more, sir, I command you 
to leave my house ! 

Mr. P. Once more, sir, I will not leave your house, sir ! 
No, sir! Nellie has invited me to dine with her, sir; and 
to take tea with her, sir ; and I shall remain, sir, until to- 
morrow, sir! (Mrs. P. screams.) 

Mr. S. (Aside.) The man must be insane. 

Mr. P. Attend to my wife, sir ! There you stand, as 

stupid as a The fact is, Jacob, you don't know what 

common decency consists in. (Calmly fans Mrs. S.) 

Mr. S. Ha! (Aside.) But no: he knows not what he 
says. I will endeavor to be calm. But, then, the conduct of 
my wife ! Can she have heard any thing ? I am afraid she 
has. But no: she probably mistrusts ; that's all. It can be 
nothing more. I see it all. She profits by Pettigrew's in- 
sanity ; and this is a device to warn me, in case matters are 
as she suspects. (Smiles.) What shrewd invention ! By 
remaining perfectly indifferent, I shall not only appear inno- 
cent, and thus remove her suspicions, but I shall so aggravate 
her, that, in the failure of this piece of stratagem, she will 
be properly punished for her presumption. Poor Mrs. Pet- 
tigrew is the only sufferer. (Coolly lies back on sofa, and 
folds his arms.) 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 21 

Mrs. S. (Lovingly.) You are so kind, Isaac; so unlike 
my cruel husband. 

Mr. S. (Aside.) She calls him Isaac! (Aloud.) Mrs. 
Jacob Stanford ! I — I (Aside.) But my determina- 
tion. (Resumes his former position on sofa.) 

Mr. P. Were you but mine ! 

3Irs. P. (Angrily.) Isaac ! 

Mr. P. Hold your tongue, Mrs. Pettigrew ! 

Mrs. P. (Burying face in handkerchief.) I shall go 
mad ! 

Mr. P. It makes no difference where you go, madam ! 

Mrs. P. (Laughing one side.) How extremely natural 
Isaac performs ! He would have made a most excellent 
actor. 

Mr. P. Were you but mine! (Takes Mrs. Stanford's 
hand. They come forward.) 

Mrs. S. (Looking into his face lovingly.) Yes ! 

Mr. P. Were you but mine ! (Aside.) What if she 
were mine? 

Mrs. S. Proceed. I do delight to hear you speak. 
" Oh ! as the bee upon the flower, I hang upon the honey of 
thy eloquent tongue. Were I but yours, I should indeed be 
blest." 

Mr. P. " O Pauline ! " — I — I mean, my dearest 
Nellie, could love fulfil its prayers, this hand would lead 
thee. (Aside.) Where would it lead her? 

Mrs. S. " My own dear love ! " 

Mr. S. (Aside.) This is all done to draw me out ; yes, 
to draw me out ; and then, having drawn me out, to expose 
me. But it shall not be. Oh, no ! (Lies back, and covers 
face with handkerchief.) 

Mr. P. ( Thinking.) I have it ! (To Mrs. S.) Wouldst 
thou have me paint the home in which such love as ours 
should dwell? 

Mrs. S. Yes, dearest Isaac ! 

Mrs. P. (Aside.) Capital ! What would Bulwer say if 
he were here ? 

Mr. P. An humble farmhouse, lifting to eternal summer 
its mossy walls from out an ever-yielding orchard of richest 
golden fruit. Within, all peace and happiness should dwell ; 
while the neatness of each separate apartment should sylla- 
ble, in accents more audible than words, thy heavenly name. 
Remote, a few rods only from this humble dwelling, a well- 



22 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 



filled barn, symbolical of wealth and happiness, should form 
a quiet habitation for our horses, oxen, cows, and pigs ; while 
further back, — say, on the left, — and facing a richly ver- 
dant lawn, an unassuming hennery should rise, in front of 
which, at early morn, we'd sit beneath the outspread arms 
of some old favorite oak, the while the gallinaceous throng 
comes forth in twos and threes to view the rising sun : — 

And as the mother-hen each fond endearment tries 

To tempt its new-fledged offspring to scratch up bugs and flies, 

This little hand (raising her hand) should scatter to and fro, out of its pearly 

whiteness as pure as any snow, 
Both corn and dough and other food, which in due time would make the 

biddies grow. 
Each chick, each hen, and each hen's husband, gathering round, 
Would eat this food as it fell on the ground. 

Nothing should disturb the quiet of this portion of our stock. 

Mr. S. (Rising.) Nonsense ! 

Mr. P. Silence, you old hen-hawk ! 

Mr. S. (Aside.) Poor fellow! I can forgive him ; but as 
to my wife ■ But I must be calm. (Again extends him- 
self on sofa, and covers his face.) 

Mr. P. Thus far, dost thou like the picture? 

Mrs. S. Indeed I do ! But, alas ! cruel fate has given me 
to another ! Oh, if I could but implant a heart like thine 
within my husband's breast ! 

Mr. P. Since cruel fate has dealt so shabbily with us both, 
why not dissolve the bonds which bind us to those we cannot 
love, and, hand in hand, go forth in search of happiness ? 
(They go, r.) 

Mrs. P. Husband ! 

Mr. P. Wife ! 

Mr. S. (Jumping from sofa.) Mrs. Stanford ! 

Mrs. P. ( Crying bitterly.) O Isaac, Isaac ! (Dries 
tears.) But no, Mr. Pettigrew, I will submit to such treat- 
ment no longer ! Your conduct is abominable ! 

Mrs. S. (Alarmed.) I am afraid we are going too 

Mr. P. (Interrupting.) Hush ! Yes, of course we are 
going to ride this afternoon. I have spoken for the horse 
and chaise already. (Aside to Mrs. S.) Carrie and I un- 
derstand each other. (Mr. S. and Mrs. P. look amazed.) 

Mrs. S. Which horse did you engage, the red or the 
white one? You know, we were speaking about that yester- 
day. 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 23 

Mr. P. (Hesitating.) Yes, — oh, yes ! we were speaking 
about that. (Aside.) These lawyers' wives ! (Aloud.) 
Oh ! I have engaged the long-tailed red, — the same we had 
last Tuesday. 

Mr. S. (Staring with astonishment.) "The long-tailed 
red, — the same we had last Tuesday ! " (Folds an?is.) But 
I'll be calm. 

Mrs. P. ( Greatly agitated.) Ride ! Oh ! you will ride 
with a married woman — yes — and — and — you — you 
have been to ride with her before, — last Tuesday ? 

Mr. P. Yes, a week ago to-morrow ; and we shall go 
again to-day. 

3frs. P. (Resolutely.) Then I go too ! 

Mr. P. Not with us, madam. Perhaps Jacob will take 
you. 

Mr. S. I shan't go ! 

Mr. P. None of your nonsense! Of course you'll go. 
"Where's your gallantry ? 

Mr. S. (Aside.) The fellow has cheek enough for an- 
other row of teeth. 

Mrs. S. Now do, dear J — Mr. Stanford ? 

Mr. S. (Delighted.) She was about to call me her dear 
Jacob. 

Mrs. P. (Aside, to Mr. S.) Say you will take me. 

Mr. S. (Astonished.) Madam ! (Aside.) Can it be 
possible that Mrs. Pettigrew is insane ? Heavens ! per- 
haps my wife is deranged also ! Yes, it must be : she never 
could act so in her right mind. They are all demented; and 
this is no plot, after all. 

Mr. P. Nellie, in order that your feet may not suffer from 
the cold, I would recommend that you warm a brick to take 
with us. 

Mr. S. Warm a brick ! 

Mr. P. Yes, warm a brick I You seem determined not 
to appreciate any of my efforts to please you, this morning. 
I suppose you even object to this benevolent forethought of 
mine. 

Mrs. P. (Aside, to Mr. S.) We can take one too. 

Mr. S. (Looking at Mrs. P. with surprise.) Madam ! 
(To Mr. P.) I not only object to the brick, but to the ride, 
and your entire conduct since you entered my house. 

Mrs. S. But we shall take a brick, nevertheless, Mr. 
Stanford ; and we will take a gammon-board, too, if we 



24 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 

wish. Do you understand ? (Significantly.) A gammon- 
board ! If you object to have this one go out of the house, 
perhaps we can borrow one at the hotel, or of Green the 
apothecary. 

Mr. P. We can obtain one at the hotel, I have no doubt ; 
for a lady friend of mine, who boards there, is very partial 
to the game. 

Mrs. P. (Aside, to Mr. S.) Then we can take this one. 

Mr. S. (Buttoning up coat, and viewing Mrs. P.) Mrs. 
Isaac Pettigrew ! (Aside, alarmed.) Green, hotel, gam- 
mon-board! Yes, she must know all. She is not insane ; oh, 
no! Even now, though, it is possible that she only suspects. 
(Resumes seat on sofa.) 

Mrs. P. Don't you think you had better engage your 
horse ? It is a very fine day ; and I am afraid you will stand 
a poor chance, unless 

Mr. P. Now I think of it, at the time I spoke for my 
team there were but one horse, one chaise, and a carryall, 
which were not engaged. I am afraid, Mr. Stanford, that 
you will be obliged to postpone your ride, after all. 

Mrs. P. Then, sir, I shall go with you. 

Mr. P. Etiquette, Mrs. P., would require that you should 
be invited before making such an assertion. 

Mrs. P. "Etiquette!" You not only injure my feelings 
(crying) by — by the affection you manifest towards another 
in my presence, but — (sobs) — but you seem determined to 

br — break my heart also. You — you But never 

mind: I will leave you, Mr. Pettigrew; yes, for ever! When 
you return to your once peaceful and happy home, and — 
(sobs) — and find the life of your house (sobs), the joy of your 
fireside, gone (sobs) for ever, you — (sobs) — you may then ap 
— (sobs) — appreciate the value of a good wife. (Aside.) I 
think Isaac has well earned his receipt ; so I will go into the 
next room, enclose it in an envelope, and send it home imme- 
diately, so that he may receive it when he returns. 

Mr. P. Mrs. Pettigrew ! why don't you go ? 

Mrs. P. Farewell for — (sobs) — for ever ! 

(Exit, L.D.) 

Mr. P. (Alarmed.) What if Carrie thought me in ear- 
nest ? Perhaps my affection for Mrs. Stanford has been 
more natural than Carrie desired. It — it may be so. It — 
is strange I didn't think of that before. I — I — feel 
alarmed. I — I tremble both for my wife and the receipt. 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 25 

What if I should lose both? Oh, horrors! My situation is 
very awkward. I — I know not what to do. ( Crosses l.) 
I must after her; yes, and, throwing myself at her feet, im- 
plore her forgiveness. (Aloud, with trembling voice.) Nellie, 
my dear, I will but quell the ardor of my infuriated wife, 
and then return. (Exit, l.d.) 

Mrs. S. (r.c.) Now for an outbreak. 

Mr. S. (Sitting on sofa, with back to tvife.) He's gone ! 
What shall I say to my wife? (Thinks.) I'll say nothing 
to her ; no, not a syllable. I will appear unconcerned, and 
take a nap. (Lies back as before.) 

3frs. S. No storm. What means this calm indifference ? 
Ah ! my dear husband, you imagine that you disguise your 
feelings by this management. But no : this very stillness tells 
me, more distinctly than words, that you appreciate the pic- 
ture we have drawn you. However, he may change, even 
now, he's so impulsive. For fear of this, I think I'll leave 
him to his tranquil mood, and see what Carrie is about. Poor 
fellow ! I would like to kiss him, even now. (Exit, l.d.) 

Mr. S. (Rising.) Then she's gone too. (Noise, l.) 
But here comes that infernal scoundrel again. (Again ex- 
tends himself on sofa, and re-covers face. 

Enter Mr. Pettigrew (l.). 

Mr. P. ( Crossing r.) She says all's right, and that the 
receipt for the eternal extermination of the potato-rot is 
forthcoming. My book shall go to press to-morrow ! Oh 
the fame I shall acquire! But I'll not be proud. Oh, no! 
It shall never be said that pride entered the breast of Isaac 
Pettigrew. No, no : I'll wear my honors modestly. I will 
exclaim, with the poet, — 

" And what is famel The meanest have their day: 
The greatest can but blaze, then pass away." 

Now for a little sport on my own account. ( Crosses to sofa, 
seizes Mr. S. furiously by arm, and walks him, with handker- 
chief over his face, to r. cor.) Now that we are alone, I 
wish to talk to you like a friend. 

Mr. S. ( Uncovering face.) Well, sir ! well ! 

Mr. P. (Shouting.) Like a friend ! In thunder-tones, I 

3 



26 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 

repeat it. (Very tamely.) Like a friend. (Arranges two 
chairs, c. and l.c.) 

Mr. S. (Aside.) Too true ; too true ! The cares and 
anxieties occasioned by his farm have turned his brain. 

Mr. P. (Sitting, l.c.) In the first place, Mr. Stanford, 
be seated. 

Mr. S. (Aside.) Unfortunate being ! But why should I 
not humor him? Yes, I will. (Sits, c.) 

Mr. P. But no: before being seated, produce your meer- 
schaum, — ay, your meerschaum, — Mr. Stanford. The enor- 
mity of your conduct has so enraged me, sir, that nothing 
but the potent charms of a well-colored meerschaum can 
allay the inward desire which I have to administer to your 
dilapidated person an immediate chastisement! 

Mr. S. Sir ! {Aside.) Poor fellow ! 

Mr. P. No delay, sir ! Bring forth your meerschaum ! 

Mr. S. Sir ! I — I do not smoke. 

Mr. P. You do not smoke ? " Lives there a man with 
soul so dead?" You do not smoke? 

Mr. S. (Emphatically.) No, sir ! 

Mr. P. He does not smoke ! The man who hath no 
meerschaum in his house is fit for treasons, stratagems, and 
spoils! You have no meerschaum? Then, sir, you're not 
aware what heavenly bliss you do deny yourself. Could you 
but know what balm, what solace, what assuaging attributes, 
what mitigating qualities, are expressed by this dissyllabic 
word, not a day, no, not an hour, would elapse, before, with 
serene joy, with placid satisfaction, you would congratulate 
yourself upon being the blissful proprietor of at least one of 
these celebrated chameleonistic pipes. Having procured your 
meerschaum, the next step is to color it. And now, if you are 
a man of genius, what unthought-of joy awaits you ! A new 
field opens before you. You can now convince the world, 
although hitherto you have displayed no brilliancy of intel- 
lect, and notwithstanding your daily manifestations of stupidity, 
that there has ever existed an inherent spark of artistic 
merit, quiescent, perhaps, till the present time, but now 
awake, and glowing with marvellous effulgence. With paren- 
tal care you'll watch from day to day the gradual progress to 
complexional excellence : and when, at last, the happy goal 
is reached ; when, with pipe in mouth, amidst one vast en- 
chanting cloud of now rolling, tumbling, now smoothly gliding, 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 27 

gently curling, now quick, now slowly rising, volatile, fumy 
ringlets, you can confront, without emotions of trepidation, 
your fellow-men, and, complaisantly laying your hand upon 
your heart, declare, My meerschaum's colored! — then, sir, 
but not till then, exclaim, I am a man! (Thinking,) But 
— you — do — not — smoke ? Nor pipe nor cigars ? 

Mr. S. ( Who has been watching Mr. P. with feelings of 
pity.) Neither. 

Mr. P. Well then, sir, sucli being the case, what am I to 
understand by the strange manner in which you treat your 
wife ? 

Mr. S. (Shaking finger close to Mr. P.'s face.) Under- 
stand whatever you may wish, sir ! Do you understand that, 
sir? 

Mr. P. {Indignantly drawing chair away.) Jacob, you 
are really, without any exception whatever, the most con- 
summate fool that ever I was acquainted with. 

Mr. S. (Angrily.) Pettigrew ! (Aside.) But why 
should I rail with a madman? 

Mr. P. I came to you as a friend ; I came with tears in 
my eyes, bitter tears, occasioned by your heartless conduct, 
and attempted to reason with you, to advise you as one 
friend should advise another, to win you back to the paths 
of virtue ; and you have not only denied me your meer- 
schaum ■ 

■ Mr. S. (Interrupting.) I have no meerschaum ! 

Mr. P. Hold 'your tongue, sir ! You have not only 
refused me your meerschaum, but have seen fit to (with 
wounded feelings) insult me ; yes, literally insult me ! 

Mr. S. (Rising from chair, greatly excited:) You deserve 
to be kicked into the street, sir ! 

Mr. P. " Kicked into the street ! " And thus you serve 
a benefactor? Ingrate ! This, then, is my reward for en- 
deavoring to effect a reconciliation between yourself and 
wife ? 

Mr. S. Reconciliation ! 

Mr. P. Yes, reconciliation ! It is now evident that your 
sordid disposition to accumulate not only deprives you of a 
meerschaum, but a dictionary also. 

Mr. S. I — I will thank you not to meddle with my 
family affairs. 

Mr. P. But, friend Jacob, the lady is young and delicate. 

Mr. S. Well, sir ! — well ! What is that to you ? 



28 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 



Mr. P. Every thing ; yes, every thing ! She cannot 
long exist under such treatment. It is wearing her into her 
grave. 

Mr. S. What do you mean ? 

Mr. P. If you but knew the enormity of your conduct, 
you would mend, Jacob. Now reflect, Jacob, and promise 
me that you will reform, Jacob. 

Mr. S. {Exasperated.) Isaac Hartshorn Pettigrew, 
I have put up with your insolence full long enough; and now, 
sir, allow me to inform you, that unless, without delay, you 
quietly evacuate these premises, you will have the pleasure 
of being conducted hence by a worthy member of our po- 
lice. 

Mr. P. Sir, my cause is a righteous one, and I fear 
nought. Do you presume to intimidate me by such nonsen- 
sical threats? Police! — you couldn't find one in half an 
hour ! Police ! But I see, — yes, I see, — Jacob Living- 
ston Stanford, your motive. You have a private ambition 
to lose an eye, or a tooth, or a nose, or some other trifle, I 
suppose. {Looks at him fiercely.) Your wife, sir, I adore : 
but you I — I do not adore ; and, were you the husband of 
another, I would annihilate you on the spot ! Your wife is 
your preserver. {Goes toivards r.d.) Meditate, sir, upon 
your folly ; ponder well and thoroughly ; and resolve, when I 
return, to merit my exculpation. 

Mr. S. Come back, sir ! That's my wife's room ! Where 
are you going ? 

Mr. P. To comfort the aching heart of wrong-ed inno- 
cence. {Exit, R.D.) 

Mr. S. {Following him up to c.d.) Here, you rascal, 
you villain, you ! {Enter Mrs. Pettigrew, l.d., uttering 
most lamentable outcries.) Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! they will 
drive me raving mad ! ( Comes forward, greatly bewildered.) 

Mrs. P. {Crying.) Mr. Stanford ! — Mr. Stanford ! — 
boo ! — oo ! — oo ! {Threws herself into easy-chair.) 

Mr. S. {Aside.) And I have always thought him my 
friend ! 

Mrs. P. {Aside.) He will not notice me ! ( Cries louder 
than before.) 

Mr. S. {Aside.) And his poor wife ! Oh, he must be 
deranged ! 

Mrs. P. Boo ! — oo ! — oo ! 

Mr. S. And my wife too ! Oh ! 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 29 

Mrs. P. Boo ! — oo ! — oo ! 

Mr. S. (Aside.) I suppose I must say something to this 
unfortunate woman. Why shouldn't I condole with her ? 
Why shouldn't I sympathize with her? (Thinks.) I will ! 
Madam ! 

Mrs. P. Mr. Stanford ! (Sobs.) 

Mr. S. (Very sympathetically.) Madam, do not despair. 
How long do these fits of insanity generally endure ? 13 
this malady hereditary ! 

Mrs. P. (Sobs.) Insanity ! (Laughing one side.) In- 
sanity ! 

Mr. S. Yes, Mrs. Pettigrew : were you not aware of it ? 
Alas ! I fear the strangeness of his conduct can be attri- 
buted only to some cerebral derangement. 

Mrs. P. my dear Mr. Stanford ! — ( Cries.) — If it were 
but insanity, there might be some hope of effecting a cure. 

Mr. S. (Greatly excited.) You do not presume to say 
that your friend and my husband — no! my husband and 
your — no ! — yes ! Pshaw ! Do you suppose that my 
friend Isaac would, in a healthy mental condition, have the 
audacity to make love to my wife before — before my very 
face and eyes? 

Mrs. P. ( Crying.) He — he falls in love with every 
pretty woman he sees, sir — boo ! — 00 ! What — what shall 
I do ? (Laughs one side.) 

Mr. S. (Aside.) Pretty woman ! Yes, Nellie is pretty. 
(Aloud.) The reprobate ! 

Mrs. P. No, not that. He is my husband. 

Mr. S. (Aside.) And she loves him still. Would Nellie 
love me if she really knew the similarity between Isaac and 
myself? If she really knew : egad ! I am afraid she does 
know. (Mrs. P. sobs.) This is a very unfortunate affair, 
Mrs. Pettigrew ; but what do you imagine my sufferings 
are ? 

Mrs. P. Alas ! Nellie has been very indiscreet, — very. 
But then, Mr. Stanford, haven't you said or done some little 
thing, some very little thing, perhaps, which, to punish you 
for 

Mr. & (Interrupting.) No : I have done nothing. 

Mrs. P. You must excuse me. I didn't know but that 
there might have been some little thoughtlessness on your 
part, some slight but unintentional neglect; for Nellie loves 
you as she does her life. 



30 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 



Mr. S. (Aside.) Poor thing! How I Lave abused her! 

Mrs. P. I thought this might possibly be the case ; but 
(crying) my — my husband's actions are real. There is no 
pretence in his behavior. I could mention a dozen instances 
of such manifestations as you have seen to-day. 

Mr. S. And you really think he's not insane? 

Mrs. P. (In despair.) I know not what to think. 
(Sobs.) Three weeks since, a lady from Oxford arrived in 
town, and 

Mr. S. A lady from Oxford ? 

Mrs. P. Yes : a widow lady, I believe. 

Mr. S. (Impatiently.) Well! 

Mrs. P. (Aside.) He's becoming interested. 

Mr. S. (Aside.) Mrs. Newcomb arrived exactly three 
weeks to-morrow. 

Mrs. P. Since this woman entered our village 

(Sobs.) 

Mr. S. Yes, yes ! 

Mrs. P. Since (sobs) she entered our village ■ 

(Sobs.) 

Mr. S. Well ! what ? 

Mrs. P. All the amenities of our home have vanished, 
and — and (cries) Isaac's mania for farming has — (sobs) — 
has turned to an (sobs) indescribable passion to indulge in 
the game of ba — (sobs) — ba — backgammon. He visits 
the hotel regularly, each afternoon. He always takes our 
backgammon-board with him ; and I am informed that the 
person with whom he plays is this widow from Oxford. 

Mr. S. (Aside.) Does this woman tell the truth ? or is 
she showing me my own likeness ? 

Mrs. P. Well, sir! (Sobs.) 

Mr. S. Are you quite sure he goes to the hotel ? 

Mrs. P. Alas ! Mr. Stanford, it is too true. 

Mr. S. Is it possible ? I discovered him this very morn- 
ing, not an hour since, playing this interesting game with my 
wife. 

Mrs. P. (Astonished.) You did? What! with Nellie? 
(Wiping eyes.) 

Mr. S. Yes, with my wife. But in regard to this lady 
from Oxford? 

Mrs. P. Well, sir. Alas that I should be obliged to 
reveal my domestic afflictions ! But, Mr. Stanford, I come 
to you as an old friend of the family. 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 31 

Mr. S. {Nervously.) I understand, Mrs. Pettigrew ; I 
understand. But this lady, — her name is what? 

Mrs. P. Oh ! her name is Newton — or Newhall — 
or 

Mr. S. Is it Newcomb ? 

Mrs. P. Yes, that's the name. You know her, then ? 

Mr. S. ( Confused.) Oh ! — no ! — no ! I accidentally 
saw her name on the hotel-books. 

Mrs. P. Oh ! you are not acquainted with her ? And 
you have never seen her ? 

Mr. & No ! — yes ! — once ! (Aside.) Is this female 
quizzing me ? 

Mrs. P. Now, my dear friend Stanford, as I come to you 
for advice, I wish you to give it without prejudice either to 
Isaac or myself. In regard to my erring husband's conduct, 
nothing extenuate, nor 

Mr. S. No, marm ! 

Mrs. P. Imagine, if possible, that you occupy his posi- 
tion. (Mr. S. becomes excited.) You will then be more 
lenient towards him. Imagine that you have been in the 
habit of visiting this widow. 

Mr. S. But, Mrs. Pettigrew ! 

31rs. P. Only imagine, that's all ; for one of your true 
and noble disposition would not stoop to such a thing, of 
course. Only imagine the thing. 

Mr. S. But I go to town every afternoon, so — I — I 
really cannot bring my imagination to such a 

Mrs. P. Oh ! that is very easily obviated. We will, as 
this is merely a supposition so far as you are concerned, 
change the time : say in the morning, instead of the after- 
noon. And then, to make the affair appear still more natural, 
I would suggest, by way of episode, that, instead of going to 
Green's, — as of course you do each morning, — you go to 
the hotel. 

Mr. S. (Aside, greatly alarmed.) It is evident that this 
woman knows all. 

Mrs. P. Suppose that you and the widow (Now 

remember, that, when I say you, I mean Isaac. You must 
not forget this. I merely make the mutation, so that your 
sympathy for my sufferings may be more thoroughly se- 
cured.) 

Mr. S. (Aside, in despair.) Oh, fool, fool, that I have 



32 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 

been ! She knows it ; Isaac knows it ; my wife probably 
knows it ; and probably everybody knows it ! 

Mrs. P. We will suppose 

Mr. S. No more, Mrs. Pettigrew ; no more ! It is I, 
not you, who need advice. I have cruelly neglected a most 
affectionate wife. I see you know all ; so throw aside this 
ambiguity, and speak boldly. Censure me as severely as 
you may, I shall deserve it all. But I — I can — can make 
reparation. I 

Mrs. P. ( Greatly delighted.) And you will ? You — you 
are really penitent ? 

Mr. S. (Humbly.) As contrite as ever deviating man 
can be. 

Mrs. P. Then I will after Nellie at once. - 

Mr. S. Yes, tell her that her husband sees his folly, and 
humbly asks to be forgiven ; that perhaps, when he ex- 
plains all, she'll find that her suspicions have been much 
heavier than his faults. Tell her that he loves his wife, and 
her only. 

Mrs. P. Friend Stanford, I honor you. (Exit, l.d.) 

Mr. S. ( Coming forward.) Once more, I breathe again ! 
The jewel ! Oh, how I long to clasp her in these arms ! I 
But here comes my lunatic friend ; whom, for the pre- 
sent, I must avoid. (Exit, l.) 

Enter Mr. Pettigrew (r.d.). 

Mr. P. He flies from me ! Shall I after him ? Shall I 
continue, or shall I not continue, to harass this depraved 
being, this Hierogabulous, this young 

Enter John, with iivo letters (c.d.). 

John. Ah, Mr. Pettigrew ! I'm glad 'tis you I've found. 
I have been after receiving two letters with your superstition 
on thim ; which, being marked "In haste," and thinking as 
how they might be of importance, I hev fetched thim over to 
you. 

Mr. P. (Receiving letters, R.C.) You did well, John. 

John. Don't mintion it, sir. (Exit, CD.) 

Mr. P. (Examining the superscription of one letter.) My 
wife's hand? Yes! What can it be? (Opens letter hur- 
riedly.) "Infallible and economical cure for the 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 33 

fotato-rot." Fortune, thou propitious female, I thank 
thee! I am a made man! The "Agriculturist" goes to 
press to-morrow ! Visions of glory crowd my brain ! (Holds 
up receipt.) " Infallible and economical cure for 
the potato-rot." (Gazing at receipt.) O thou precursor 
of my future greatness ! come, let me read thee ! But no : 
what have we here ? (Examines other letter.) From Nor- 
ton ! Can it be from Squashby ? Yes, it is his hand ! 
(Anxiously opens and reads letter.) 

"Isaac H. Pettigrew, Esq. Dear Sir, — It gives me 
infinite pleasure to inform you that lot number twenty-six, 
long sweets, contributed by you to our Annual Fair, has taken 
a first prize. 

" Yours very respectfully, 

"Melonious P. Squashby." 

(Rapturously.) Oh exuberance of felicity ! Incessant 
flow ot' beneficence ! The first premium for long sweets ! 
Oh ecstasy of joy ! But where is Carrie ? She must be in 
Jacob's study. ( Goes to l.d.) 

She shall share with me 

This Elysian shower of the Fates' benignity. 

But here come Mr. and Mrs. Stanford ; and, as I live, as 
loving as two doves ! (Grosses R. cor. Enter Mr. and Mrs. 
Stanford, l.d.) Jacob, it gives me joy to see you once 
more in your true position. And now, Jacob, behold my 
magnanimity. For all the rough treatment, unkind words, 
base insults, and lacerating glances, which you this day have 
so copiously lavished upon me, — for all these, I forgive you, 
Jacob. 

Mr. S. (Smiling.) Benevolent creature, accept my 
thanks ! 

Mrs. S. Our thanks, you mean, my dear. 

Mr. P. Jacob, I am the happiest of living men ! ( Crosses 
L.) 

Mr. S. Doubted ! (Kisses wife.) 

Mrs. S. (Lovingly.) Jacob! 

Mr. P. Doubted, sir! Read that! (Hands him letter.) 
But where is Carrie ? Where can she be ? Where is my 
wife ? 

Mrs. S. A first premium for your acclimated sweets. 



34 MY FRIEND ISAAC. 



Enter Mrs. Pettigrew, unobserved (l.d.). 

Mr. P. ( Overjoyed.) The same ! And, in this hand, I 
hold another round of the ladder Fame ; viz., " An infal- 
lible AND ECONOMICAL CURE FOR THE POTATO-ROT." 

Mrs. P. (Coming forward.) Can't you read it? 

Mr. P. Carrie ! 

Mrs. P. Isaac ! ( They embrace, l.) Read it, my dear. 
But no : we must first congratulate our friends on their 
happy re-union. 

Mr. S. Madam, I cannot conceive how the most incon- 
stant man should not succumb, when wrought upon by so 
ingenious a triangular corps as yourself, your eccentric hus- 
band, and my darling wife, — a trifid combination of method, 
drollery, and love. You have played well your parts, and I 
thank you for teaching me my duty. (Embraces wife.) 

Mrs. S. Now, Mr. Pettigrew, the receipt. 

Mr. P. Would you read it ? 

Mrs. P. By all means. 

Mr. P. What say you, Jacob ? 

Mr. S. (Pointing to audience.) I think the ladies and 
gentlemen would like to hear it. 

Mrs. S. (Looking at ivatch.) It is getting rather late. 

Mr. P. (Looking at his watch.) So it is ; but (in lower 
voice) I hardly like to read this receipt. There may be re- 
porters here ; for I have heard that they sometimes patronize 
the drama : and you know the proclivities of this fraternity. 

Mrs. S. Possibly, to-morrow morning, we may all of us 
have reason to regret that they do sometimes patronize the 
drama. 

Mr. P. (Smiling.) Exactly ; for they say awful things 
occasionally. But, in regard to the infallible and economical, 
I prefer that it should make its first appearance in the "Agri- 
culturist." However, our audiences always expect us to 
say something to them while they are going out. 

Mrs. P. Why not solicit their ( Whispers to Mr. 

Mr. P. An excellent idea ! I will. ( Comes forward.) 
Ladies and gentlemen, — I shall be happy to have you send 
in your orders for " The Economical Agriculturist" at your 
earliest convenience. It will be issued in morocco, cloth, and 
paper covers, and therefore will be within the reach of all. 



MY FRIEND ISAAC. 35 

It will be ready for delivery in about three weeks. It is to 
be a book which even the tiller of but a single acre, or the 
proprietor of a single cow, should possess. By sending in 

your orders early, you will greatly oblige 

Mr. S. (Interrupting.) My Friend Isaac. 



Disposition of the Characters at the Fall of the Curtain. 

3Ir. Stanford. Mr. Pettigrew. 
(r.) Mrs. Stanford. Mrs. Pettigrew (l.). 



THE END. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

II 



016 103 242 6 



